


The fields of Esgaroth

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Famine - Freeform, Historical AU, Inspired by Field of Athenry, Ireland, Minor Character Death, emigration - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: Kíli stole corn from Thranduil to feed his family. He is transported to Botany Bay, but with the help of an old friend, his family follows him.





	The fields of Esgaroth

**Author's Note:**

> NOT my normal ship. However, when I listened to "Fields of Athenry" recently, I suddenly pictured Tauriel and Kíli.  
> I highly recommend listening to the song before reading the story, or while reading the story, it is one of my favourite Irish songs.  
> I took some very creative licence, as I did not necessarily want to spend the time to research every historical detail for a very short story my brain insisted I absolutly need to write before doing something else.  
> Quick historical background: The Great Famine was a period in Ireland between 1845 and 1849. A potato blight ruined most of the potato crop which for poor Irish people was the main (sometimes only) source of food. The English lords shipped their corn to England instead of feeding the population. A million people died, and more emigrated. Today Ireland's population is still smaller than it was in 1845.

Tauriel, bastard daughter of an English noble and an Irish peasant grew up in Esgaroth, in the west of county Cork. Thranduil, lord of the manor, had been her father’s best friend. The nobleman had felt a pang of responsibility for his daughter and as he died of wounds sustained in a duel, he begged Thranduil not to let his daughter starve.

So Tauriel had grown up in the guard house and Thranduil made sure she was treated right. The girl became fluent in Gaelic and English and was allowed to play with Thranduil’s son Legolas. A lonely boy, who often spent his summer in Ireland while his father was in London.

Then they grew up. Legolas went to Oxford and spent less time in Ireland. And when he did, he showed so much interest in Tauriel that her foster mother feared for the girl’s reputation and, by extension, her own family’s reputation. So Tauriel was sent away to the woman’s sister in the village.

And there, on her first visit to church, her eyes fell onto the young man across the aisle. A man with hazel eyes so open and deep, hair so curly and smile so free.

When Lughnasa came, they danced together most of the night, all within the bounds of propriety. Tauriel never once left the sight of the matrons of the village and she never sought him out by herself. All of whom were eager to tell her all about this young firebrand, Kíli.

They had stumbled into each other ever more frequently. Soon they were stealing away in the fields near home, laying low in the grass and watching the small free birds fly.

Never doing more than holding hands and enjoying a bit of sun whenever it grazed the South of Ireland this beautiful summer.

Dis, Kíli’s mother, never alluded to Tauriel’s birth or what kind of woman her mother had been. She came to see the girl several times in her guardian’s house, pleased with the dexterity and wit of her son's darling. She did not hesitate to give her blessing though it was not the marriage she would have arranged.

At the end of the summer of 1843 Tauriel and Kíli stood in front of the village church, sanctifying the union. Thranduil had sent plentiful food from the manor to mark the occasion and given the couple a small plot of land.

In the summer of 1844 their son was born. He had his father’s eyes and giggles.

In 1845 the potato blight hit. And the slow growing feeling of doom deep in everyone’s empty bellies. The potato crop had failed. There was no food.

The first victim was Kíli’s sister-in-law. After a difficult childbirth, her body could not take the starvation and she faded. Her little girl passed away just hours later.

They buried mother and daughter in the same coffin. Kíli and Tauriel stood at the cemetery wall, watching Fíli kneeling next to the fresh grave, a son on each hand.

People left. More died.

In 1847, they were in the cemetery again, burying Tauriel’s gentle mother-in-law. Tauriel’s son was crying all through mass, his small face anguished as his tiny body was demanding food.

The corn in Thranduil’s fields had flourished and his stores were full, all destined to go to England to feed the rich.

Kíli along with other villagers, robbed one of the storehouses. Some were caught, Kíli among them.

Fíli had been part of the raid but his little brother had made sure that he escaped. Tauriel saw Fíli sneak back into his home, next to hers. She knew what had happened. Fíli would never have left Kíli behind if there was any chance for Kíli to escape.

The day after Kíli was taken for stealing Thranduil’s corn, Legolas had approached her as she was out on the field, hoping against hope to find some good potatoes. He had apologized for his father. Tauriel could only shrug it off. Thranduil had once been good to her - the bastard daughter of one of his friends. But know he seemed happy to let her starve.

This was the first Tauriel and Legolas had spoken since Tauriel had left Thranduil’s grounds. But all she could think when he stood in front of her was how it would ruin her reputation to be seen with her. She had already lost her husband. She could not afford to lose her reputation.

But then she had gathered her courage and asked Legolas what was going to happen to her Kíli. “Botany Bay,” Legolas told her.

Botany Bay. Australia. The other side of the world. Months away.

The next day Legolas had been back. He had no way in influencing the verdict, he said, his father would not hear of it.

But he offered his own money to buy Tauriel and her in-laws a passage to Australia. So they could rejoin Kíli once he was freed.

Tauriel had taken the offer. There was nothing for them in Esgaroth. No hope.

She could see Fíli’s distrustful look when he asked what she had given Legolas in return. 

“My friendship when he was a lonely boy.” 

“A high price for friendship.”

Tauriel had readjusted her scarf, pulling it further back on her head. “Yes. Should I have rejected? Should we let our children starve here in Ireland?”

Fíli did not respond. 

The next day they left for Cobh.

Tauriel found the prison they had taken Kíli to and called for him at the wall, until he answered.

“Kíli, they have taken you away for you stole Thranduil’s corn so the young might see the morn. Now a prison ship lays waiting in the bay.” Closing her eyes, she saw the happier days. “Once we watched small free birds fly. Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing.”

From within the prison, Kíli’s voice, as strong as ever, called back:

“Nothing matters, Tauri, when you’re free. Against the famine and the Crown, I rebelled, they cut me down. Now you must raise our child with dignity. Once we had dreams and songs to sing. Now I live and hope and pray that all our family may see the morn.”

Tauriel pulled her scarf tighter around her head and shoulders and turned around. 

In the room they had rented in Cobh, her brother-in-law already was still up and waiting with his two sons, Tauriel’s son and his uncle. Thorin was huddling in a corner, gathering his grandnephews around him as Fíli gave Tauriel some gruel.

“Did you talk to him?” Fíli asked, his voice hushed.

Tauriel nodded, too choked up too speak.

She looked out of the window and as expected, she saw a hooded figure turn around and walk back up the street. Legolas had followed her here.

She had not told Fíli. Of course not. As the bastard child of a noble, she was under suspicion anyway. Not that Kíli had ever cared. Fíli’s wife had. And she did want her brother-in-law to think ill of her.

But they were only here now because of Legolas. It was his money that had secured them these rooms. Some desperate families slept out in the street. And there were daily new arrivals of haggard people, hoping for a better life across the sea.

The next day Tauriel stood at the harbour wall and watched the prison ship in the distance, disappearing behind the islands in the harbour. She prayed to God, to Jesus and especially to Mary to grant her love health. She knew how many prisoners never even made it to their destiny alive.

Two days later, they boarded the ship that was to take them halfway across the world. Tauriel secured a spot on the deck, her toddler on her hip as she watched the coast disappear. A tall figure stood at the quay, his blond hair blowing in the wind. Legolas had protected her thus far. Now all she had was her brother-in-law, who was mourning his wife, and her uncle-in-law who had lost his little sister, after having lost his little brother to a short lived rebellion many years ago. The rebellion had been instigated by Thorin, but Frerin had sacrificed himself to protect his older brother. Thorin had never forgiven himself. Fíli and Kíli’s three sisters had all emigrated to America with their husbands several years ago and were never heard from again. 

Tauriel stayed up on deck as long as possible. Legolas’ money had bought them a passage that was slightly better than that of the other passengers. 

Still, the journey was hell all by itself. Fíli’s children were sick every day the first two weeks. Thorin became more apathetic in the first weeks. To distract herself, Tauriel became the English teacher for many of the people around, some of whom had only had a year of English in school. All were desperate to improve their English, in the hopes that the English would regard them with friendlier eyes.

People died. A priest on board held masses as the bodies were thrown overboard. Small blessings, Tauriel supposed. They could practice their faith openly now whereas their parents’ generation would have to practice in secret.

Fíli and Tauriel kept each other’s spirits up. They would sing hymns to their children. They talked about the happier times. They hardly talked about the future, they did not know what awaited them in the strange country on the other side of the world.

Thorin too began to get his spirits up after a couple of weeks at sea. He began to inspire other emigrants to keep their heads up and to make a new future for their families.

And then, when it felt like they too would end their life on this swimming coffin, they approached Sydney cove.

Black women in canoes dotted the water. Tauriel had never considered that Australia must have been inhabited before the English landed. 

They and their kids had already marvelled at the coloured people in the ports they had stopped in on the way. Now they were going to live among them.

Once they landed, their money got them to a small hostel. Fíli and Thorin went out the next few days to find work - unsuccessfully, all the jobs they qualified for were taken by the penal colony of course. So instead of keeping the rest of the money Legolas had given them as savings, they purchased land from the Crown.

It belonged to the English Crown, who sold it, in much the same way the land of Esgaroth had been granted to Thranduil by the Crown: By taking it from the people already there.

Tauriel noticed she and Fíli were the only ones in the colony with such scruples. Scruples or not, they had to make the land their own; their money would buy them land here but not the way home.

It took several weeks for Tauriel to find out where Kíli was serving his sentence.

He was building government houses not too far from their new farm. 

On a Monday she walked there with Fíli, her son on her arm, while Thorin took care of Fíli's kids. They stood in the sun, waiting to see Kíli. And finally they did. He looked even more bedraggled now, his hair a curly mess, his shoulders hunched as he carried a bag of stones. But then he looked up and across to where his family stood at a safe distance.

And even at that distance they could see his brilliant smile. An overseer came over and Fíli and Tauriel walked away.

For the next two years, as their farm and children prospered, somebody from the family came once every week to stand near Kíli’s workplace.

They were never allowed to talk. But after a few month, Tauriel found somebody to smuggle notes. The guards probably knew but did not care enough to stop it.

Kíli knew his family was here. And alive. And they knew he was alive. It was more than what other people had. They had hope to be reunited.

And then, one Saturday as Tauriel got the clothes for Church ready, there was a knock on the door.

Cautiously, you never knew in this area, she took the gun from the wall and opened the door.

And there stood Kíli. Just as skinny as during the famine, with scars on his arms, and lines in his face that were not there before. But he beamed just as he had during their first dance at Lughnasa.

She quickly dragged him into the house.

“Have you escaped?”

“No!” Kíli’s smile turned into a frown. “If I had, would I put my wife, my kid, my brother, my uncle in danger by asking them to harbour me? A letter arrived by boat, with my pardon. I’m a free man, again, Tauri.”

Her scream of joy drew everyone in, and there was a lot of hugging and crying. 

Kíli told them that at first he thought the views of his family were hallucinations, brought by his loneliness and despair.

They could laugh at that now.

The boat had come from Ireland. From a newcomer he met in the pub, Kíli heard that shortly after Tauriel had left Ireland, Thranduil had taken pity on the villagers in his area and had distributed food. They were the last that had to leave, and Dís had been the last to die.

And with Kíli’s permission, Tauriel penned a letter to Legolas. Her penmanship was not good anymore, but she wrote to tell him the news, trying to thank him for what she knew was her friend’s good influence. She ended with a fervent promise to always keep him and his family in her prayers as long as she lived. She also mentioned that it was hard for Kíli to stay where he had served as a prisoner, but that she was sure her husband would settle in.

10 months later, a letter arrived with money that was, Legolas wrote, for a passage to New Zealand. He wrote that he was sure his dear friend would not accept money back for the passage to Ireland and also that while his father had fed the villagers, it would not mean that the thieves were welcome back. Thorin talked about saving up more money and to return to Ireland to rebel against the English. But looking at their children, they could not subject them to a journey to a bleaker future.

The money was sufficient to also buy the passage for Bofur, Bombur and Bifur, three brothers who had served with Kíli for the same crime and were freed shortly after Kíli. Bombur hoped to someday save enough money to bring his family over as well. 

They settled in Auckland, a rapidly growing town with a big Irish population. Most were protestant from Ulster, but there was a Catholic Church, and that was all they asked for.

It was not the isle they had left behind, that isle they would never see again. The adults carried the fields of Esgaroth in their heart for all their lives. When they closed their eyes, they saw the village Church, they saw their loved ones on bended knees, they saw the birds, smelled the sweet grass and the turf fires. But they also remembered the horror of the famine and while they remained poor, they never had to starve again. 


End file.
